the origami phoenix
When deep calls to deep,
My soul replies, “what were your thoughts?”
Of course they are too much to know,
but concerning myself,
Is it too much to ask?
When your fingertips gently folded
the first corner back, and
I began to take shape.
A careful crease,
A tear, a tear
You looked at what you’d formed
And called it good.
But I was not good –
When you had finished,
You knew I wasn’t finished, but
Would be consumed.
Wrinkled, wrung
Twisted, tilted, mistreated and torn.
You would re-create me-
Lifting me from the ashes
breathing wind across my wings.
The same wind that brought me to life,
the same wind that fanned the
flames that so thoroughly destroyed what
I had become,
lifts me a second time.
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